214 THE EXORCIST OF HALSTOCK. 



The caitiff we scarce had time to note 

 Scarce heard the rattle within his throat ; 



For he swung from the fatal tree 

 As the marshal told his crime and name — 

 He had harried the lands of a widowed dame 



In the tything of Inwardleigh. 

 But the sounds that died on the muffled drum. 

 Seemed dirge for a Royal Martyrdom. 



He threw in a thing like a tasselled cloak 



Such as is worn by the burgher folk. 



Two iron letters your eye may meet 



On a wall, by the Chantry, in Ok ton Street : — 



Stout of heart they esteem the wight 



Who reads those letters at dead of night 



Though the moon be glinted back the while 



From the oriel lights of the chantry aisle. 



The Exorcist stood by the grave, and read 



The initial scroll of the burgher dead : 



Suddenly a cloud of smoke 



Wreathed and mantled about the cloak, 



So densely, we could nothing heed 



But the strong perfume of a foreign weed ; 



And I thought the Exorcist about to faint 



And bade him call on his patron Saint. 



Then there followed long and loud 



Peals of laughter from out the cloud ; 



But all was indistinct until — 



As the wreaths decayed on the side of the hill — 



One shut the heavy box : 

 And hark ! that sleepy raven's croak 

 Flapping his wings from Halstock oak 



He is scared by the creaking locks. 

 And the Exorcist said he must strive by prayer 

 For the rest of the spirit of Master Gayer. 



Eos. 



